Festival season (2019)

#149

This is the best festival season month in 30 years without hyperbole and without a whit of doubt.

            First Gopalan hosted a Diwali lunch, it’s been ages literally decades since I had a meal in a home much as I am only saddled with restaurant meals. It was a noble gesture of him to invite, first time someone did in living memory. Ashish Bansal wished me from South Korea and Neetu spoke to me from Delhi were the other well-wishers. So did Manisha and Vivek. 

            The second highlight of the month was Online Options classes from 21/10 to 26/10. Kapil Mokashi is OTA’s best instructor was my conclusion after this online class. He is mighty committed and gave it his all in terms of vocal energy. It is not easy to speak 4-5 hours at a stretch when your students are spread all across the world. We were of 50 of us with only the chat text messages for our side of communication. I worked so hard squeezing every bit of neurons of my mind to understand Options after September classroom on my own steam that I was primed up for this RETAKE class. Now my understanding of Options trades must be at B+ levels which is very impressive under two months. Remember the stock market is not a History or English question paper where you can fill pages, it is a Maths paper where your answers are either correct or wrong and nothing in between. 
                SBI got me started on FO trades and it was nature’s blessing to watch this slow moving stock that afforded me a lot of room to experiment of various call and put options for a massive learning experience. I was working on Q2 results trades; made handsome monies on ACC, Reliance, Axis Bank, HDFC bank, HUL before Infy wiped everything away for an invaluable lesson: all your profits can be wiped out in one single trade, so managing your risks is imperative. 

            Stock Market trading is the best thing to happen to me in ages or since I was born in a hospital in Andhra Mahila Sabha in 1969. Such a claim may appear a ludicrous exaggeration but let me explain: this is an activity that does not require others, you trade as and when you like, and if you have skill you will make handsome profits. Now tell me which business or money making activity come with so many pluses especially for a world-class recluse? The best thing of the stock market is “it brings out your true colours” as I found myself GREEDY for rewards and I also discovered that I am an AGGRESSIVE trader where my gut plays a huge role. Kapil added a note of caution: you have to manage risks to earn consistently which for me will be a Veda Vakku (voice of God).

            After three weeks of FO trades in six stocks I wrote down my rules of trading:

-         a)  Never fish in troubled waters especially when a stock is rising like a rocket or falling precipitously. On the surface it looks easy money but it can wipe out an entire month’s efforts. Remember this golden rule always: the markets never give easy money, and if it does on rare occasions it will quickly take it away.

-          b) Be smart while covering profits especially when you fear that the stock will retrace quickly and you take a premature hasty exit. My simple strategy is: the profit now looks good but I am not finished. I will buy a PUT option to protect my position and wait for the stock to float before I do a “profit booking” a word every trader loves more than his wife’s kisses and hugs

-          c) Lastly don’t second guess what is going to unfold at the start of the day for no one in the universe can predict the movement of a stock except you can gauge its trend - up or down or sideways. Your job is to plan your trades, enter them without haste at the planned entry points and wait for it to play out without anxiety, Sure the market will behave with a mind of its own but your job is to manage risk. 
            The stock market is always right and it rewards DISCIPLINE and PROCESS. One can make 5 lacs a month on a trading budget of 10 lacs on Future & Options trade if you follow a few more operating SOPs: a) Never take trades in the first 30 min or last 30 min of the day when the market is most volatile. b) Never lose more than 10 k on a trade even if God were to tell you that the eleventh thousand the stock will turn in your favour. As a rule I don't trade on Pharma and IT stocks for these are news based (FDA of USA gives a rating and that stock will lose 10% in 10 min or even IT which is very susceptible to US-INR exchange rates which is beyond your control). It is hard earned money, unfortunately 95% of retailers come to market without knowledge and discipline and lose their life savings. 

                  Moving away from my pet obsession of trading, I was excited with Palavakkam property where the builder quoted 80 lacs and I was hell bent on owning it until Pandian saw the figures and said it was a white elephant. He said, “Sathya this property is not worth a penny more than 70 lacs for this man has charged you exorbitant construction costs. The value of the property changes as per location but construction costs are nearly always the same. It cannot exceed 3000 per sq feet and at that rate you should be asking for marble flooring and imported closets.” I told him, “You are a true friend and saved 10 lacs of a foolish man.” October saw me get introduced to Raghu, my ties with Gopalan has grown strong and my faith in Pandian reinforced – all god’s act of grace.

I will end this post with my cook Thangam’s precocious granddaughter tales. Ashmitha at 4 years old is one of the cutest kids I have seen in my life (forgive the hyperbole for I see very little of kids). She once accompanied Thangam and I had to humour her on the guitar. I gifted her some dolls to play. The next week she came all excited for more dolls but this time I was tight-fisted saying, “No, play with these dolls here and no taking it home.” The little girl said, “I don’t like your guitar or your dolls,” to show her displeasure. And when Thangam left she taught her child, “Say goodbye to uncle,” and Ashmitha said this to an unforgettable cuteness, “There is no need for goodbyes.” I find little girls much smarter than boys at that age, they dominate a conversation and take charge in their games but when a girl reaches puberty she loses all innocence and smartness and humour that a boy doesn’t. I tell Thangam, “Give this girl the best education. She has an amazing grasping mind and she is never at a loss of words. She has that actor Savitri's kind of anger at the nostrils that is more funny than toxic.” Really a blessed child, she looks set for an IIT or Harvard from these initial signs. 

The fragrance of Respect

#148

Trust me, nobody loves a friend or relative in our times; our digital minds in 2019 timelines have narrowed down to “ME, My Wife, and my Children.” And in my case: I, me, myself. But respect is a very important thing, I explore what it means to have earned respect or notoriety in this post.

            Dr. Kiruba is a dentist and I have been his patient for a decade now. Each time I am on the dental chair we have a nice banter; he is a FB friend and he does read these blog posts once in a while. He treats me with a lot of respect; showers free medicines and mouthwashes after consultations that the medical representatives leave him with as samples. As for me, I like this flow of bonhomie and any time I visit his clinic, it feels like re-connecting with a long lost friend which does my poor ego a lot of good. Like the good doctor, these days I earn the respect of my fellow beings from the vegetable grocer, waiters at Vishranti, regular beach-goers and generally wherever I frequent. I have long realized that words and even body language don’t endear one to the rest of the world as much as an ability to trigger good vibes – a simple smile and few words of assurance is more than good enough if you know how to add a listening component to it.

            There were two incidents last week that got me feeling great. I sent “Happy Saraswati puja” greetings to a dozen friends on Whatsapp. One fellow blogger from Rediffiland wrote: Thanks for the wishes, Goddess Saraswati has blessed you in abundance.  The next day I was chatting with my cook as the conversation veered towards how I employed Meera, as I reminisced, “First she never wanted to work for a bachelor. I had to cajole her saying that I will keep the pressure cooker with rice and dhal and all she had to do was 20 min of work. But once she understood me, she was the first to pay me a compliment that she felt totally secure and safe working for me.” Thangam is a woman of few words as she spontaneously said, “Anyone who doubts your character must be a sick person.”

            Let’s see how lack of respect works. My house-owner is a Sindhi woman who has 8 houses in the city for rental incomes. The house I am staying resembles more a candle palace that Duryodhana conjured for the Pandavas – the roof leaks to rains, the tiles are 4 decades old, the doors are fragile flimsy. Everyone from the street vendor to the laundry man to the milk maid told me when I shifted from M90 to M91: My god, it’s a pothole of a house and terrible miserly house-owners. All of them cannot resist this byline: they are Sindhis and what better can you expect?? Within three months I realized that I was sold a dummy. I made a spare-key for my cook which costed me Rs. 500. I vacate this premise next month and do you know what I will do with the spare key? I will just wash it down the flush or fling it from the terrace; even if I had a barely handshaking relation I would have volunteered this key to the owners. This is what disrespect is – they don’t get anything friendly from me.

            Again for the opposite: I sold M90 to Mr. Pandian who is one of my most reliable of friends. I called him today saying, “Sir, I am planning to buy an apartment in Palavakkam. But before signing the deal I want you to take a look and advise me since you are a lot smarter.” He said, “Sathya, I am in Guwahati now, back to Chennai on Sunday. Meet the builder and negotiate but don’t sign on till I give you an approval. We will go to the premise on Wednesday.”  

Life on a fast lane

#147

My life is that of a constant star or a planet on a cosmic timescale where nothing happens  except the regular course set for it. In my case it’s a mishmash of SPARRC, guitar, Vipassana, and stock market activity. But this fortnight changed all that.

            First I was laid down with a stubborn fever. I have so many doctor friends that I get free online consultation. Vivek gave a prescription for the fever & terrible coughing that seemed to abate before physical exertion stirred it up for the second time. This plays into my territory for it gives me a guilt-free cozying up in the bed; I am truly one of the most lethargic biped in creation. The weather is changing, we had the first spell of North East monsoons yesterday and so I can attribute my fragile immunity on the weather elements. But it does look a straight road to the doctors this time, some blood test and things like that.

            But illness thing has not got me down at all; in spirits this is my brightest moment of the year. For starters, I am taking to Future & Options trade as a fledgling duck to water. These four months of cash market experience and I am discovering a lot about myself in these F&O trades. It does help when your first FO trade in Hindustan Unilever fetched me a 12 k profit, ACC looks like a 40-50 k, Infy is always a stock where I have never lost money. Seriously it’s not the money that gets me excited as a peacock in rains, it’s the excitement of planning a trade. My mind is swimming on “Call” or “Put” options (should I buy CE or sell a put) even in sleep or what strike price to choose for ITM or OTM at target. Unlike cash market where you don’t watch your stocks for days and weeks except for a passing glance, the first week of FO trades saw me glued to my screen. My instructor advised, “Sathya, you seem to be having a ball of a time but please be careful for naked positions are dangerous.” I thank him profusely on the phone but keep asking myself, “Why begin a trade with a hedge option; I will have a hedge only when things don’t go as per my plan.” I seem to developed a gut feel for a dozen stocks. To my exaggerated self-belief my trade management skills is among the best in the universe. So far so good, this stock market activity is so consuming that it’s slowly replacing my time to write these silly blog posts. It’s then you realize how much of a gift writing is, it needs a mind to curate thoughts before it flows on paper like an easy flowing stream.

            Gopalan is a good friend and he wanted me to look at a “buy a small villa in Kumbakonam in a Brahmin agraharam.” I went to look at the place which is 320 kms from Chennai and loved it. The major attraction is availability of quality tambrahm food. So I am investing in this property, purchased land and the construction will be complete in June. This looks ideal for a week’s gateway from Chennai with the excitements of a monthly train trips, good food and wholesome company.

            The trigger for the post is Raghu who I met in Kumbakonam. Rarely have I warmed up to a person at first sight, he vibrates cheer and friendliness. He’s purchased a big villa at the premise, he advised me on the best site for my land (this is a gated community with individual houses replete with restaurant for three squares a day). In fact, I was to stay there for three days but since he was going to Chennai in his car, I joined him in a blink of an eye. The 6 hours car journey got us bonded as I gave him a synopsis of my life: lousy parents, heart surgery at 28 that reduced my career options and how stock market activity is consuming my days.  I said, “Sir, I go without opening my mouth for days and weeks, I am the definition of a recluse. I have a mother and siblings but not one cares a whit.”  The next day he called saying, “Sathya, I am going to disturb you as frequently as possible. I consider you as a little brother, it’s sad that there are so few to engage a brilliant conversationalist as you.” Those words of concern melted my heart, this is a start of a friendship and looks a good harvest already. He visited my place the next day, insisting on my inspection of a new apartment at Palavakkam which is 4 kms from my place. If everything goes well, I should be buying this place in a fortnight’s time. So immediately within a fortnight I am owner of one plot of land in Kumbakonam and likely owner of an apartment in Chennai. This is entirely the gains of mindfulness for nothing was planned, rather I was hesitant to own a property but when it comes my way, I am agile enough to change my mind and go for the fruit. One of the reasons I signed for Kumbakonam apart from good food is friends like Gopalan and Raghu in the same compound. Both these gentlemen have large hearts, they care and they treat me with affection which adds up very well to my credit side of life.

            This fortnight also had a couple of surprises. First, my Pozhichalur uncle prised-out my postal address with a fib saying, “I may be passing that way, so please dish out the address,” which I smsed. Couple of months later, I see the wedding invitation of his grandson. The undercurrent of such a ruse was clear: He wanted to send me an invite and not want me there. I thought without an outrage, “The old man looks a moron but what devilish cunning,” as I tore out the wedding card for a trivial amusement. That it finds a space in my blog post is only to remember the devilish wit of the whole thing. The second surprise was Ashish Bansal visiting Chennai and I showed him the Theosophical Society lawns. We had a great time catching up and a good dinner at Ratna Café. Ashish is one of those blokes who has the temperament of a test match opener, forever patient and composed with as few demands to those around. I surprised myself limping 5 kms in one my rare trips to TS, just showed that a stroll with a good companion makes you forget your arthritic pains. These look like the best of times for me, let’s hope that bird flies from the cage this time.

The fleas of Sindh

#146

10^th October is one date I never forget – it’s just as much a landmark as my birthday on 27^th April or my heart surgery on 27^th June or very near suicidal attempt on 27^th November. Neither do I forget my dad’s death on 13^th November. But we are now in October, let me explain what 10/10 means to me.

            pUsHpA was a slippery character from day-1 as she led me to a garden path. No one has spoken such endearing words of love as this female. I lost my Worldwide Media job and almost from the next day she turned cold. It was on 10/10 in 2009 she announced on her Orkut site “I am engaged”. I smoked half a pack of cigarettes that day, spent a sleepless night later for the first time in my life. Here was a woman who had a pre-honeymoon vacation with me, swore undying declarations of love for thousands of kisses and hugs and when it came to parting “just did not say a word of contrition”. If ever there was an instance of sneaking thief exit, this was it.

            One of the many lessons I learnt from the Sindhi imbroglio was: Women in our age can change their partners at their whim and fancies. Another was: never trust a Sindhi and a Punjabi* ever. Even today when I find a Punjabi woman attractive in my circle, I give it a broad miss for “once bitten is twice shy”. Life is too short to repeat the same mistake again and I am no fool more than my share. That race gives a lot of premium to “chickna” skin and “wealth”. Both of which I am neither endowed or aspired.

            The second time I came across a Sindhi was Haider Sheikh in Abu Dhabi. He was my colleague in Adline advertising and as slimy as they get. He was as dumb as a doorknob but he knew how to survive in a foul acrid atmosphere of hate and spite of Mohan like no other. To any abuse and outrage, Haider batted with a straight smile, “Yes Boss.” He was boiled daily with words of abuse for the same mistake, but his smile never wavered or his “Yes Boss” or a Uriah Heap’s show of servility. What nature gave him a more than a jackal's share of cunningness, it failed him as he continued with his error prone ways in work. He got on my wrong side many a times, as for me this feeling strengthened: Haider was the second Sindhi I was unfortunate enough to meet and both did not bode well for me. Yes, he was "chikna" but dead from the neck up with an IQ below that of a tortoise. Both pUsHpA and Haider can make a living in the glamour industries as a model or an actor; nature has not given them minds for anything higher.  Come to think of it, both the Sindhis look to me as made-for-each-other kinds for a corollary: Sindhis should only love and marry among themselves lest they pollute superior races and genes. 

            I sold my M90/4 in December and took up residence in 91/6 in the next building. The house-owner is a Sindhi and she is just as worse as the worst of them. The roof leaks and she will not spend on repair. This is a 45 years old construction, even the kitchen slab has not been replaced or the bathroom tiles from 1973!!! This Sindhi female has 4 to 5 houses in the city and makes a pile of rental income. Every tenant of hers curse her for she is too tightfisted – she will simply not replace a worn out fan or do any kind of repairs. A Tamilian is a peaceful creature but the bad names the Sindhis earn on account of this house-owner is enough to tar the entire community as we soon aver: what better can we expect from Sindhis?

            I am largely secular; I am not a sectarian fellow. I have a broad outlook to life and believe that there are good and bad people in every language and religion and caste but when it comes to Sindhis my attitude changes: If you find a Sindhi and a snake, better kill the Sindhi for it is more dangerous is no mere saying but there is a lot of truth to it. I think we should pack these Sindhis to where they belong – Sindhustan in Pakistan. They defile the atmosphere wherever they go. After pUsHpA chastisement there is a lot of relief: whatever destiny has in store for me, it can't get more worse than her. Anyone coming in my social circle can't be so gross and animalistic as this female. Once you have seen the worst of a human being, naturally your days and months and years brighten like the summer sun. Phew!!!! 

Post Script: I have a lot of IMT friends who are Punjabis. They are as good as the best of them. Point is, after this Sindhi chastisement I am wary of getting into romantic situations with that tribe. If pUsHpA had been a Bengali, Malayali, Marathi, Gujarati, Sinhalese or from the Hindi belt or Kashmiri, my reaction would have been just the same. Being in Chennai, a Sindhi is as rare an animal as a white ant, I come across them like once a decade kinds. I am taking the trouble to write this disclaimer so that none of my friends feel grieved. 

Gopalan, my third student

#145

In the second half of 2017 Ramesh, a good friend, said, “Sathya, forget content writing for it is not getting you any money. Why not try Soft skills training?” I allowed myself to be persuaded for I had nothing to lose and within 2-3 months I worked out a 12 hours content on “effective communication” without Google search. There are certain aspects of life nature has blessed me in bountiful measure; “content sourcing” is one of them. My content for “effective communication” would stalk against the best in the world for it was based on my life experience – no cop out options like Edward De Bono’s “lateral thinking” or “different colours of hats” or the much abused “Johari window” instead my content dwelt on “communication strategies at thought, feeling and emotion” for a wholly self-designed course. I am not given to beating my trumpet but when I do, nail it on the wall as a self-evident truth.

            Further encouraged by friends, I advertised this course in “Adyar Times” after engaging a conference hall in a business centre.  I signed two students both from well-meaning friends as Prithvi said, “Sathya, I want my son to be your first student” and Ramprasad said, “I will sponsor one of my employees.” Then I had Mr. Gopalan who signed as the third participant and this blog post is all about him!

            It was strange for a 48 years old to mentor a 70 years old who said this on the phone for a self-introduction, “My wife keeps finding fault with me, I want to attend your communication course to learn if I can manage better.” I had grave misgivings about having a student like this; it felt the person had more a need of a clinical psychologist than a soft skills trainer. But I said, “Please come along and I will see what I can do.”

            The moment I met, I realize that Mr. Gopalan was no diffident man needing a couch at a shrink but a man of the world – spry mind, self-deprecating humour, and full of banter.  He served in high echelons in the corporate sector and USA or Europe bound almost every year. After the first class I said, “I don’t know whether I have anything to teach you. I feel I have much to learn for our interactions.” He paid the money and that felt a grave miscarriage of justice as he observed, “What is 5 k for 12 sessions? I am a rich man and can easily afford it.”

In the first class I was telling about the “mistakes of a poor communicator” with movie scenes to highlight my point, after a while he said,” Sathya, it’s getting heavy for the day. Shall we continue this lesson in the next class?” Of course I readily assented for he was the sole student!

            Each time he comes visiting my place, Gopalan never comes with an empty hand. He always gets “Adyar Ananda Bhavan mixture and a packet of sweets.” He is full of tales and humour, “Sathya, I feel sad that you have no occupation. Take my advice, select five companies and send your resume to the CEO and I am sure they will revert.” I had grown far too cynical for such an enterprise though he insisted, “Sathya, when I was young I was saddled with a poor job. Each day I would apply to five companies until I joined Seshasayee Paper & Boards Limited where I worked as a PA to the chairman for 3 decades. I retired in the “General Manager” rank, those were wonderful years. Many a time, I would put in over 12 hours for years on the job, working for Mr. Vishwanathan was one of the best things of my career and life.”

            Gopalan would fill me with details of his family, “I allow my wife to dominate me. My daughter is in London and she brings a lot of happiness with a son-in-law a senior Director in Cognizant. On the other hand, my son is a recurring problem; twice divorced and now on the lookout for a third marriage.”  One could sense his smartness as he narrated this tale, “Once my son resigned his job in Texas and came home here in Besant Nagar say in 2010 times. He simply had no stomach for America. The entire family knew it was a grave mistake. We bribed an astrologer to counsel him that “India is no place for him and that his stars shine only in the West”. That stratagem worked as he returned to America within three weeks. Now he is happily settled and risen to a Director of a Fortune 500 MNC.”  

Those were the days - December, 2017 times - I was refurbishing M90/4 by laying floor tiles and when I told him I was looking for new furniture, he said, “I have a grand piece that I want to dispose. It’s taking too much space; it will be perfect for you. I got them at Modfurn for 30 k three years back. Have a look, if you like then I will more than happy to sell it to you.” I went to his house, saw the leather sofa and fell in love straightaway as we shook hands for a deal. The same afternoon it was delivered and it’s the best piece of my home now.  

And then we met yesterday as he landed at my house with a bottle of premium coffee (worth Rs. 475), a local brand of coffee decoction, and a I kg of sugar – it would have costed no less than Rs. 600. It felt too flattering and undeserving to accept the gifts, as I said, “I wish my sisters would have done something similar. Thanks a million,” as I rushed to give anything of a gift value in return. I found couple of apples and a bunch of bananas as return gift. He was excited about his new villa purchase in Kumbakonam as he explained: Each month I visit Kumbakonam for a break from Chennai. We have a small villa of 600 sq feet. He was so adamant that I take a look, “Sathya, please take a look at this property for it is ideal for you – there is a central mess for three squares, the property is a gated community facing the Cauvery river. There are historical temples alround and we allow only a Brahmin crowd.” Gopalan advertised this property in “Adyar Times” on behalf of the promoters and closed 2 sales deals, “Sathya, unwittingly I made 4 lacs in commissions after I sold two units. The promoter is so pleased with me that he has appointed me “Director of Marketing.” If this is not resourcefulness, then pray what is I wonder. He tells me, “Sathya, there are earning opportunities everywhere but somehow you don’t seem to find them. You are living in a world of Buddha and Mindfulness perhaps.” 

Yesterday I tell him, “I always have 13-15 lacs idling in my HDFC savings account. Only today I opened a Kotak Mahindra savings bank account for 6% interest rate.” Gopalan says, “I know the Bank Manager of Shastri Nagar Branch very well.” Without losing a moment, he speaks to the manager saying, “Sathya is my best friend and I am giving you a high network account. Please take care of him, assign him your best relationship manager.” It’s this kind of enterprise and friendliness that makes Gopalan such a welcoming person wherever he goes.

As for me, Gopalan Sir is the best return on human investment in years as I got a 60 k leather sofa for 10 k, I get Adyar Ananda Bhavan sweets and now coffee decoction. I was telling Ranga at the monthly whisky drink at Maris, “Gopalan taught me the importance of gifting and visiting friends. Rs. 500 is not much an expense for it brings a lot of happiness and bonding.” Ranga said, “Sure it is a good lesson for insular tambrahms.”  As for me each time I see Mr. Gopalan it is that beaming smile that comes to mind, he sure brings a truckload of positive energy along with the Adyar Ananda Bhavan savouries and sweets. 

The magic of “Sorry”

#144

“Sorry” is just a word but it defines you have character or not.  The test “whether a person is cultured or not” depends on whether he/she has these sentences in the vocabulary: I am sorry or I seek your pardon, I was wrong and please wipe the slate clean.

            An apology is an expression of regret. It satisfies four conditions: a) My actions or words have caused you material loss and/or mental sorrow b) I regret those words and actions of mine c) I spoke those words and did those actions with insufficient knowledge and d) I am ready to compensate materially or through a genuine intent of REGRET for the sorrow that I wrought.

            I don’t think a SORRY will compensate a robbery or a wife cheating on her husband or someone who pulled a dagger on your brother and now contrite they seek your forgiveness. Fortunately, our worlds of interactions do not bring us in contact with these rough thugs unless you are a resident of Tihar jail like P Chidambaram. We are more often placed in a group of selfish and self-centered people at home and in our offices or neighbourhood who can spoil your day through gossip and bad-mouthing, betraying your confidences (the worst is “you tell your sob stories to a friend” who leaks it by broadcasting to the entire world for a social embarrassment) or just not sensitive enough to your troubles (imagine an asinine neighbor taking cudgels on “keeping the staircase lights on” when your wife is in the hospital on critical care. Even if they are right on the score, it’s terrible timing).

            I never knew “the power of sorry” till this incident that occurred on the last day of my options class on 11/9.  But before I dwell on it, let me fill in with what happens when you deal with morons (those not wired to apologize).

            I hate to take this example but nothing illustrates an INSENSITIVE person walking over someone’s feelings more than this: pUsHpA was well within her rights to change a “love/romance” quotient to a “friend” status like an airline changing the status from “scheduled” to “cancelled”. Though there is a lot of inconvenience, that in itself does not outrage or make the blood boil as much as a callous attitude and utter disregard to other’s feelings. I am a normal chap of placid temperament with a large heart to forgive. pUsHpA could have met me in person to explain “Sathya, I am flying off the nest and let’s say our goodbyes now”. That would have been a saving grace rather than a sneaking thief exit. Or at least a mail expressing genuine contrition: “Sathya, I am really sorry. I was your first date and romance, but I have now found my exact green blouse matching elsewhere. I need to compensate you and tell me what I can do.” If pw had said something like this; she would have been spared from “blog posts that singe” or the name spelt in alternate caps & small letters. A genuine expression of regret and I would have more likely grown large-hearted enough to say, “Accepted and now get out of my sight. At least your name or cheap actions will not find mention in my blogs or story tales.”

            Same story with my siblings to my grouse, “For 30 years you have not bothered to include me in festivals or even an insincere show of concern when I was down with a heart surgery. Now there is nothing left.” With the Sindhi, her mistake was a character problem for no woman would trivialize romance and pick and choose a man as though she was in a blouse-matching shop for a new saree (I believe they have 50 to 100 shades of green or any colour for the blouse piece to exactly match the saree or come very close to it).  With my siblings it was a grave cultural wiring that after marriage they are DUTY-BOUND to look the other way to the plights of their brothers and sisters of the former homes they left behind. Again a simple sorry would have sufficed had any of my sisters had mouthed this: Sathi, I am sorry. The truth is we have grown so far apart that there is nothing in common for us to invite you. You don’t fit into the festival mode or given us any reason to attend when you are sick. I understand that caring for you falls within my perview but this is one responsibility I don’t have stomach for, so kindly let it pass.” Such a simple assertion would have closed the loop and spared all of us the ignominy of seeing their personality analyzed savagely on a public platform of a blog post.  Trust me, I hate to smear anyone and any character assassination post that I pen brings no glory to me at all.  These three women bring a bad name to the entire gender like a Kaikeye or Surpanaka; their apathy used to burn my heart into a cauldron (melting pot) of hate once upon a time before I learnt my FORGIVENESS lessons in Mindfulness and Vipassana.

            Now that we have seen how morons act, let’s see its contrast. I was fuming with spite and anger as the OPTIONS class drew to a close on 11/9. My purpose of this 5 days trip was to get initiated in this asset class of trading. But what really happened was “they overbooked the class” (the increased number has a direct impact on the learning effectiveness), there was a riotous fawning XLT crowd of Rahim bhakts, and finally he made things worse by “habitually late-coming” trampling our self-respects as it were. I was fuming but when Rahim said, “Sathya, I am sorry” that very moment “I wiped the slate clean.” Rahim is a lovable person with lot of anecdotes, he is a sweet talker, he is the most gifted Options trading man in the whole of South East Asia, he has a lot of virtues besides he is fabulously rich and famous (which makes forgiving very easy, I am as much smitten by externals as anyone else. So don’t take my pretensions to virtues seriously beyond a threshold 😃). I realized that an attitude to apologize is as much a social currency in the flow of life when one is living in a society. Just to say “I am sorry” or “I forgive you” is a sign of personal growth as any. As for me, it distinguishes donkeys from human beings.
Post Script: It never pays to enrage a world-class writer. All your sins could be washed on the shores of time but a written word stays forever. 

The best form of my life

#143

I feel a sense of mastery to a zone I have not been before. I am a lot certain of myself, from the manner I interact with others and more importantly in the way I have a dialogue within. There is less of confusion and doubt, more than that the FEAR and HATE have reduced to decimal levels which in the not so distant past was almost a personality trait.

            Where did I find new tail winds for this growth? Most probably my four trips to Mumbai for four straight months in a row.  I have never been in a classroom setting from 8:30 am to 4:00 pm and in this period I have had 16 days sitting on a student’s seat facing a teacher on a white board (these days they prefer sketch pens to chalk pieces on a black board). And definitely that one week at Igatpuri got in a lot of serenity to the mind. There is no gift better in the universe than a calm and equanimous mind. I feel grounded and serene. That I write a blog post to broadcast is a confirmation that these are regions of the mind I have rarely been before.

            For the first time, I realized the PAST has zero effect on me.  Each time the mind went to my siblings there would be regret in its train. Now nothing. I also found myself entirely healed of the Sindhi disaster; there’s not an atom of doubt that we were ill-matched from the word go.  I found a female attractive in Mumbai; when I found that she was a Punjabi, my mind had a smirk and drifted away. I realized later - when putting my thinking caps - that I am 100% class and any longing for a female is crass absurdity. The odds of me finding a partner is one-in-thousand and she should find me out, rather seek me out. Forget the need for a partner, I increasingly feel that if any person can WIPE the SLATE of the PAST CLEAN, the immediate benefit is a light heart.

            I hardly have any real human interactions in Chennai and so these 16 days of classroom experience in the midst of 25 students for EQUITY, 33 for FUTURES and 61 for OPTIONS got me the “threshold human interactions”. These afforded me an opportunity to figure out where I stand. In each of the class - be in equities or futures or options - others would more likely be describing it as Sathya’s batch. I made an impression without trying; that only brought home to me how MINDFULNESS has changed the inner circuitry of my mind.

            There’s three months to go this year – I should venture to FUTURES and OPTIONS trading from October (there’s a near month concept here). This gives me a fortnight to brush on my fundamentals. Then there is a “house search” for post November, my heart feels a SENIOR CITIZEN home ideal for it frees me from the kitchen chores. There’s a desire too - maybe I will find an earning opportunity in Mumbai and then I can crisscross between these two cities. It looks like Mumbai would be more welcoming to the skills and temperament I bring to the table, maybe destiny will roll it along. Whether it does or not, I feel a decisive mastery in my mind. Even others in the proximity seem to catch those vibes, I am getting a lot more smiles and banter without me straining my voice-box.  May I build something out of this phase of life.

Post Script: In 2019 I wrote 26 blogs in thinksathya and 42,300 word count for an average of 1650 words per post, 24 blogs in Dauntlesssathya and 26,900 word count (1125 per post). Writing has never been this free-flowing and full of insights as in 2019.  I am in the form of my life on the writing front alone and writing does reflect the state of mind than any conceivable thing I know.

Mumbai Snippets (Sept visit)

#142

Each moment we go through an experience either as a live conversation or through munching thoughts or strong feelings that the world of people and places impinge on us. Each moment either makes us ecstatic or depressed with ourselves or others. Each place brings the best or the worst of us. But one thing is true: we make sense of the world around with our eyes and ears and our minds. This Mumbai trip taught me so many things about me and the world.

             a) We had four Telugu students and three from Tamilnadu and these people kept to themselves to the extent of avoiding me. I was popular with the rest of the crowd minus this seven showing how far I have traversed from my moorings. The Mumbai and North Indian crowd respect talents and values which unfortunately my own people don’t store a value. It is a very small and narrow world you draw for yourself if you cannot see anything of value from the environment absorbed in your own narrow confines of your world.

              b)  I was bitching about Tamils when Mohan Gandhi said, “Sathya, you are in a new city but why needlessly rundown your own state or language without any needling. Look, nobody is talking ill of their city or culture as much as you do. Kindly desist from scoring self-goals and tarring your own image.” His appeal made instant sense; I apologized and from then on stopped exploring this theme.  
            c) One of the biggest motivators for trading is when you start seeing big returns. If I ever were to make 1 lac a month, will my interest and commitment not go up exponentially? The day I make 10 k, that day will be recorded. The month I gross 1 lac will be recorded in memory for an annual celebration. And why not, these are huge milestones. 

             d) Mumbai is a city of survival and courage from what I saw from the lives and conversations on the road – on trains and cabs. There’s an honesty to the city. They recognized values and skills in me which a Chennaiite would never cognize. On the second day, I had a glass of sugarcane juice. I proffered Rs. 100 for a Rs. 10 fare. He did not have the change and said, “Sir, pay me tomorrow.” Again something not likely in a Chennai situation.  I learnt a life lesson from my interactions with cab drivers: So many have things so bad and yet they carry on with life a lot better than me.

              e) Rahim the instructor did the “market timings” initiation in Park Sheraton in May and he used the same examples: how a WG Gaan's theory is followed all over the world yet he ended up bankrupt or how the demand & supply zones work irrespective of what news the market generates in a day. If you have attended couple of days of Rahim’s talk, he’s sure to repeat the same tales over and over. He is a man of limited tales and unlimited charisma blessed as he is with a glib tongue. He is so sure of himself as he challenges the class, “Have you seen anyone’s ledger?” To the perplexed look of the class he declares, “My return on investment just on XLT trades is 192% each year. It does not matter to me if the stock goes up or down or sideways for I am never caught on a hop." When one of the participants said that there is a person called Sundar in Chennai and he has seen his ledger, Rahim responded, “I have not heard the name; what does he do for a living?” The student responded, “He is a teacher.” Rahim did not get this, “teacher of what?” The class participant said, “He teaches Physics.” I was a bit distraught and instinctively said, “Rahim, he is a real teacher, “which had the entire class in splits. I have been at the receiving end of many of Rahim’s antics and finally happy for getting one of my own for a little payback.

            f)  I realized one thing in these 5 days that when I open my mouth, others listen. My mouth wins me respect most of the time. I have an open mind that does not respect any hierarchy or past bias and I care two hoots for other’s reputation for life is living by the moment. So any humour generated in the moment is always appreciated as long as it not intended to hurt the other person.
             g)  On the second day, Madan displaced me from the first day seat. I occupied Joideep’s seat who came 10 minutes later. He said, “Sathya, this is my seat.” I told him, “Someone displaced me from my place and so I am now displacing you. Sorry. go find yourself another place. I am not budging.” I was bit rough and he never forgave me for the rest of the course, which again I felt was a sign of a small mind. It's crazy and mighty self-defeating to carry forward the angst of such trivial to the following days. On the last day, I found myself sitting next to Richard. He found the chomping sound of my mouth-freshener grating his nerves. He said, “I am finding your chewing irksome.” By then there was not a bit of bonhomie as I responded, “In the case please complain to Rahim. I don’t buy your hypersensitivity at all.” By that time, I had no patience for the Tamil group of students from Chennai.

            h) I was determined to raise my issues with Rahim in front of the class the last day. Couple of good-meaning friends said, “Sathya express your angst in the student survey for Rahim is still the man who can help you make millions. Don’t get on to his bad side.” I said, “If I don’t express my five days sorrow publicly, I will lose my own self-respect. If Rahim were to take offense, so be it. Not for all the millions of the world will I condone such arrogance.”

           i) If you smile heartily and mean your “good mornings” and “have a nice day” you win a lot of smiles back. Even strangers return excellent vibes in the days to follow. This is a lesson I learnt in Bahrain in 2003 and it has served me well ever since. We have in our power to uplift people around with just a smile, the returns we fetch our phenomenal. This is a very powerful insight: With every word or sentence we speak; we rise or fall in someone else’s esteem. It pays to be genuine and honest; phoniness counterfeit and it gets nowhere.
            j) There is a lot of difference living in a society bounded by such huge numbers than a Abu Dhabi or a Manama where the human beings are respected just for being human beings. There is a lot of politeness and grace stored for every human being which is lost in a mass crowed Indian city life. We are quashed by numbers and that reduces us to a herd mentality to cynicism and extreme self-centeredness. We think that the other person is out of cheat us of our rights; even Rahim with all his wealth and fame is just as insecure. We were having a conversation in a cab, once he reacted so aggressively that I told him, “Rahim, make your point with composure and you will be taken for your word. Instead if you are hyper then you are making me defensive needlessly.” I also told him this, “However smart you are, you cannot create or fabricate the perception you desire on others. You were addressing 61 students and each will make their own assessment. And please don’t expect others to agree to the thoughts of your mind – we see the world around with our minds and it’s not necessary that it will tally with the junk you carry in your mind. There is no person in the universe out to limit Rahim’s evolution than Rahim himself and it applies to everyone.”

j          k)  If there is one lesson I wish to engrave in my mind after this visit, it is this: I can deal with a characterless person or a personality-less person but there is no payoff interacting with a person high on selfishness. That's a transaction you will lose every time much like Euclid's proposition. Sadly we deal with such mindsets in our lives in the Indian shores. 

Compliments matter

#141 post

Today I was at Vishranti as usual for breakfast. Ran into Yohanan who is fast turning out to be a good friend. He introduced me to his friend saying, "Harsha, this is Sathya. He is a top class writer. If you want anything on mindfulness or meditation or anything on the workings of the mind,  I can't think of a better person than him." The other man said, "It's such a privilege to meet someone so accomplished." As I walked out of the restaurant my mind swelled with pride. It is important that I am thought of so high at least in my neighbourhood.
            Dhamma Mani Sir had invited me for his grandson’s ayusha homam (celebrated when a baby turns one) on 6^th August. I went to the function at the other end of town, he greeted me with a profuse smile. I did not know anyone in the assembled gathering as my sole host was busy smiling and shaking hands all over. For 10-15 minutes I felt strangely alone. And after a few moments Dhamma Mani Sir introduced me to his son, “This is Sathya, the writer.” The son said spontaneously, “I have heard so much about you from dad.” That moment felt special.

            On 19^th August I walked into the FUTURES class at Mumbai. Kapil the instructor was in the midst of explaining his credentials as in his past experience, education levels and trading experience for an introduction to the class. He saw me just for a moment and gave me a huge beaming smile. That moment was again special.

            After the end of the FUTURES course, I wrote a blog post of that experience and sent it to all my classmates in Mumbai. Priyank Panchal wrote in the comments section: Sathya you filled the classroom with a lot of positive vibes which spreads across to everyone. I am so grateful to meet a charismatic person like you. Parth another classmate wrote: It’s so detailed. I wish I could write with such dedication; it was a pleasure running into you. Another friend of many years wrote: Normally I don’t read your blogs at all. This time I opened and it was un-put-down-able. What makes a compliment a cherished one is the genuineness and spontaneity. It does boost my morale on a rainy day, I record every compliment I get for my writing or in person as a person crediting money in a savings account.

            I will never forget this, actually this incident was the trigger for this post. It was day-4 of the OPTIONS class; I was exhausted and dispirited towards the end of the day as we had a short coffee break. An elderly gentleman (say 60+) was having a hurried lunch. Even as he was downing the biryani in his mouth, he said, “Hello, Sathya how are you?” I felt abashed for not placing the figure as he answered to my bemused look, “I was in the FUTURES class. You were the most unforgettable face in that crowd. Man, you have some personality when you open your mouth.” Till that point every moment of that Mumbai stay felt heavy on the mind; this one compliment got in all of endorphins. I simply shook my head in gratitude and shook his hands. His name is Anand and I am not going to forget the visual imprint of this encounter in a while.

            For me the best memory is this: Around 2000 when I was taking a stroll in the Theosophical Society, I greeted Brigadier Mehta and T H Iyer mama who were walking together. T H Iyer mama said on sight, “Sathya, I am having a private conversation and so please keep off.” The rebuff did hurt me a while but now after nearly 20 years he is my best friend and well-wisher. I have certainly grown as a person in this time. There is little chance of anyone saying this to me today. Nothing gives more pleasure than when people who put you down once-upon-a-time sing your praises today. Nothing comes remotely close.

Learning on “love” from movies

#140

At times you watch a movie; nothing about it stands out but a couple of dialogues. They make you reflect your own ideas in the head or you could be so carried away that you aver, “If I have an occasion to say this in reality, I certainly would," for a rich dose of impressionism. 

            There is this beautiful scene between Jai and Nayantara in the movie “Raja Rani”. The two lovers go to a church, kneel down to pray between the pews. Jai asks innocently, “Are we made-for-each-other?” She responds brilliantly, “Nobody is made-for-each-other from birth. We become made-for-each-other in the manner we live.”

            Then I watched “Ispade rajavum idhaya raniyum” (King of Spades, Queen of hearts) on Hotstar for even more learning. The hero is a maniac, he gets angry and violent easily for little or no provocation. The audience feels sad for the heroine for choosing such an irascible chap. Gautam is very possessive about Tara and her parents are looking elsewhere for a marriage alliance. This guy is so peeved and works himself to a frenzy; he drags her to a marriage registrar office out of the blue, “Let’s get married now. Just your signature and I can breathe easy.” Tara says, “We did not meet for four days, yet I felt your presence throughout. Now I am with you yet we are a million miles away. Marriage is no guarantee even after sex, the only guarantee for a happy marriage is trust.”

            The hero Gautam keeps threatening her, “You ditch me, I will kill you with a knife.” Tara says, “Don’t speak like a fool. Gautam when you are in love, speak with caution for each of your action is now driving me further away. In love learn to trust and learn to wait.” It so happens that Tara agrees to an arranged marriage brought by her parents but as she is getting dressed in bridal wear her mind revolts. She tells her dad, “No I can’t do it. When it comes to the test, I am still in love with Gautam and my mind can’t accept anyone else.” The story climaxes thus: Gautam learns of Tara’s marriage and comes brandishing a butcher's knife even as she gets off an auto to meet him. She hugs him saying, “I couldn’t go through the wedding for I only love you.” Gautam is now contrite saying, “I don’t deserve you at all. One moment I was about to stab you to pieces,” as he takes off to the mountains in the North for a bit of soul searching: How could I be such a heartless bum ready to plunge a knife on a beloved?" His cellphone shows Whatsapp message from Tara: 4 days I have not seen you. I am sorry. Please connect. She repeatedly keeps messaging: 24 days without speaking or hearing from you. I will always come looking for you. I am now in Himachal Pradesh in search of you. The hero smiles and takes her call as the movie rolls the titles. It was a lousy movie but the plot gripped me and the dialogues.

            After seeing the movie my first reaction was “pUsHpA never loved me at all.” I suffer a lot of nightmares and the themes are invariably the same: failing in exams at the school or university level or I am being kicked out from the house by my parents. pUsHpA doesn’t figure in my slumber but yesterday my mind had this rich video running: I am working in a place where this female is my colleague. I avoid her though placed in her company; there is a hearty chap who keeps probing: Sathya, why do you avoid this female? I tell him, “We were snakes and mongoose in our previous life. And in that encounter the snake came up trumps.”

True Angels

#139

I have done quite a few blogs on CARING; it’s a recurring theme for me. Each time my mind hits on a new insight on CARE, I rush a blog post.

            There is no skill greater on planet earth than the virtue of care – when someone is in physical or emotional pain, to offer a shoulder of support is heavenly. It’s mark of a man. To turn your back is a trait of a devil, no matter how many candles you light in a church or a wick in a temple you deserve a place in a frying pan.  These are the people who make this planet miserable for friends and relations and to those around, I don’t have the tiniest of doubts here.

            I will never forget this instance of CARE. Manohar is an electrician and we became friendly each time I had an assignment for him – times when a fuse would blow out, or even if the bathroom closet does not flush. He is an artist in such matters, he finds solutions no run-of -the-mill guy can even conjure. Like when the water motor was not sucking in water, he used his mobile as torchlight to find any holes in the PVC pipes. I can keep on singing his praises on his professional side but it was this instance that touched my heart. Last year I told him over phone that I sold my apartment. Next day he comes to the house with a long face saying, “I know how lousy and beaten you may be feeling at this phase of life. I was passing through this way and wanted to meet you.” He is not highly educated but few people are blessed with that level of compassion.
            Yesterday I found that my house-owner would not repair the terrace floor. It’s laid with four inches of cementing when all it needs is to be dug up and re-laid with concrete tiles. It’s a job that would cost over 1 lac of rupees but there is a crying need as the rain water leaks into my bedrooms.  No one would pay 21 k for such a house and I told the owner straight, “You repair this, I stay another term. Or else I vacate.”  She is a Sindhi and as tight-fisted as the worst of them. She engaged a mason for another layer of cementing, I wasted not a moment calling her, “I am vacating by the end of November for this house is not worth the 21 k.” She did not argue though she might not find a tenant for months after I am gone. She is a classic: penny wise, pound foolish caricature. 

            The whole night I was fuming at the injustice of life. This morning I had no energy for SPARRC rehabs. I was smoking more in the hope it might induce a brain seizure or a trigger a heart attack. I called Vivek and he gives relief. He said, “Sathya, try Mylapore or T-nagar where you will get food, I am sure you’ll make new friends there. Remember Besant nagar is not the only place on earth.”

            Then I called Dhamma Mani Sir and when I appraised him saying, “I am finally vacating Besant nagar after three decades. Feel a beaten cat, if I had a gun I might have gone for the temple.” He said, “Sathya, try Shubham Ashiana and they have a wonderful property in Maraimalar nagar. Buy a single bedroom for 25 lacs and your monthly food expenses will not stretch beyond 5 k. I had food there last week and it’s fantastic.” Then he added, “Look when I left Ranipet for Mumbai I had the same doubts of relocating to a new place. A few years in Mumbai, there was again a pain of leaving a familiar place. Same thing when we came back to Chennai and now I am at Mogappair happy and content. Maybe if I have to shift from here to a new place, I will not go through similar emotional pangs of attachment. Look at it this way, you have to go from kindergarten to primary, then secondary, then college and then employment and each new place is a challenge to adapt. I am sure you’re strong enough to face them. Look for food, then slowly spread your wings and new friends will come along.”

            Talking to him I was soon laughing and joking. It just took 10 minutes of the phone for him to connect with my feelings and offer a palliative. When you are staying alone even a minor ant bite looks a shark attack as the mind slips into the darkest hell of insecurity and fears. Each time I am feeling real low to a lousy mood, I call a few angels to get my breath back.

            Balakanth was an exceptional human being, multifaceted in many activities. He was the live-wire of any gathering, his humour was spontaneous but what really connected was his caring quotient. When anyone approached him with a problem, the first thing he would say is, “let’s try.” He would go all out to bring solace. Same with Manikandan and this is true leadership quality – to lift someone when they are down in the dumps. It really does not take much but very few people are blessed in the art of caring and connecting.

            For me the worst caricatures in bipeds are those you approach for help and they turn the other way. Like, I am looking for soft skills opportunity and do you know anyone to network me with? Or I am going out of town for a week, can you please collect the laundry?? Or any of the thousand petty things of the demands of living. When I approach a dork* (which I will realize after the chaffing) for assistance and there's a stoic dead-end for a response, the first thing I do is delete their number from my mobile phone. Not that I wish them bad but I don’t want to transact with such worms again. Deleting ensures I will not have access to them for the mind is weak and if my situation gets me drowning more I may be tempted for another round of begging. Even if you have been praying for a god like those asuras and saints in Amar Chitra Katha comics and the skies open up for a proclamation: Sathya, the Lord is pleased with your devotion. He will personally meet you at 7:00 am IST. Imagine the lord coming for the appointment at 7:05 and you’ll lose all respect. If there is one lesson we'll need to imbibe is "CARING for those around" or else we will all die alone and die no better than worms. I learnt this lesson in 2006  from C Subramanian's son (CS was once the Governor of Maharashtra) when I sought his assistance for a contact on a work assignment. I would call him once a week and each time he would say, "Sathya, give me one more week. Call later." Nothing transpired but I happened to run into him as he explained, "Even I have to approach others for help, there's no harm in anybody approaching me. Remember even Lord Rama had to curry favour with Sugreeva as he said to a classic: everyone needs help at one point or the other. We should try to keep the cycle going. 
* meaning of dork is "a contemptible, socially inept person" (North American; informal)

Mumbai Calling

#138

I hate to ramble though many well-wishers wryly observe, “Your blog posts are long, get it in the 500-750 words range.” There is a point there, but if you want even a bit of visual in the read then the words tend to be on higher supply zone.

            First rule of writing is “there must be a well-thought out subject for a blog post.” Second rule is: If you find humour in the daily run, record it for a rainy day. Now we get to this post to find if I can strictly abide by them.

            What makes me a good (let’s say readable) writer is “I think original thoughts, rather they impinge on me when faced with the current of life.” Two, I try to be as concise for brevity is clarity. I was in Mumbai in the month of Feb, 2007 as I started employment in Worldwide Media that manages lifestyle magazines as in a Femina and Filmfare.  I was residing at my sister’s house in Santacruz for three weeks, I found my new colleagues callous, the city mechanical that those three weeks felt a life imprisonment. I told my manager, “Thanks for giving me permission to go back to Chennai, I am taking the earliest morning flight.” She said, “Sathya, Mumbai is not so bad.” Later when discussing this with a friend, he added, “Mumbai is a soulless city.” That metaphor stuck in my mind for a long time till I visited Mumbai in June, 2019. Twelve years is a long time, usually characters of cities don’t change a millimeter in decades for they are as predictable as weather.

            In June, 2019 I saw my thoughts change little by little. In the seven days I spent, I found classmates who were all smiles and banter. Strangely I also felt a lot of people respecting me. The whole lot of intangibles in the unconscious combined and that trip got me singing a new tune: Mumbai is certainly the best city in the India. I tried to capture a bit of transformation in this link

            Then I had another week in Mumbai in July for a Vipassana outing at Igatpuri and I felt a lot of positive vibes about the people and the place which is often intertwined. Last week, I had another week in the maximum city (thrice in three months) and I found a lot of bonding, vibes of friendships and lot of banter and humour. After the Futures course, couple of classmates felt, “Sathya, your skills will be better used in Mumbai. Relocate here if you wish to get somewhere.” I met Dr. Rajaram who seconded, “For your kind of Indian intellect which I must say is “First rate” Mumbai will be your savior city for it is a land of hope." Then he said something like “Mumbai is not a Cape of good hope for it does not resemble a cape, nonetheless potential city of hope for you.” He is a man very fond of words always ready with a smile and way with words.

            Then Ashish Bansal who read that "Futures @ Mumbai" blog post said, “Sathya. Mumbai seems to see virtues in you that Chennai doesn’t. Let that lover affair with the city grow, and if you earn enough in trading you can leave the most negative city in the world to this urban jungle.” The idea sounds great, let me park in the corner of my mind for money will be determining factor.

            But this new stream of respect makes me feel a good person. There is quiet confident feeling inside: maybe I am not such a bad bloke. There are some nice things about me. One of the best things in life is the “power of a genuine compliment”. Even if you are a shade worthier, it propels you in the right direction. What is the converse of “give a dog a bad name and hang it”? Maybe it's “give a dog a good name and it will try to live it up.” That’s what a good environment is all about. It rewards the virtuous or the merest glimpse of it, that encourages the person to dwell deeper. That’s the reason I am an unabashed lover of the Gulf.  Nowhere on earth I fetched compliments like “Sathya is a man of integrity or he is a bloody good writer.” Yesterday my uncle called out of the blue to reinforce this goodness as he said, “I was telling your mother that Sathi can be difficult but if you observe closely his anger is never out of place. There is a righteousness about him, he is incapable of doing wrong. ”

            Let me end this post with this humour. I was telling my OTA friends, “These guys are expanding. Last time I was here; I saw my student adviser dragging a suitcase with lots of packages from Marks & Spencer. She has got the shapliest legs in those short western skirts. Whether I make money or not, at least I am content that she gets to shop in these fancy places thanks to a few idiots like me. Besides I get to see those glossy legs in each of my trips.” That got the biggest laughter as I said poker-faced.  But this blog post is not about her legs but about prospects of relocating to a Mumbai if and when I make money. Enough said.
Post Script for an afterthought: We all need a bit of recognition and care. Mumbai seems to reserve these qualities in these three short visits in a classroom setting. Unless I find an earning source and preferably in a Tamil speaking area - could be Trichy, Coimbatore or Madurai - it makes no sense to relocate though I am fed up to the brim with Chennai. 

Radical Listening

#137

We are all to be pitied for we live in a callous world where CARE is as extinct as dinosaurs. SELFISHNESS and SELF-CENTREDNESS is the age we live in, our parent’s and grandparent’s generation had it a lot better. They at least had siblings to visit and call on them, the earlier generation not only knew their cousins but they kept in regular touch. It was only yesterday I realized the power of RADICAL LISTENING from my interactions with FB friends.

            We mistake ourselves to be our monkey minds where the thoughts flow at astronomical speed, there is no constancy in a thought. The mind in its natural state produces a stream of opposite thoughts, we try to make sense now and then. Say I would like Amitabh Bachchan when I was a kid, today I can’t stand him for two minutes’ watch on television, same story with Gavasker who I idolized in my growing years to the extent that I would keep a score of his test match innings, updating as it went along. Now I wouldn’t care to shake his hands even if he was to visit me at my house. So the premise is “thoughts are valid at a point in time, I have every right to change them” at a mental level and consequentially at an action level. Maybe changing thoughts and actions is referred to as inner growth or else we’ll be no better than animals that come with a built-in constancy.

            In my initial years of BLOGGING I was hot-headed. I would jump on other’s views on politics, religion, language or even start a city war like Mumbai is better than a Chennai. Now older and a lot matured I am not so wedded and bonded to any view on any macro subject. Today if someone were to walk up to me and instigate saying “Buddha is a moron” it will not rile me. Or something equally asinine as “Jesus is the only savior of the world and other religions are dog shit.” These opinions reflect the character and personality of the speaker and not me a passing listener. Neither do I get worked up when some groups love for secularism makes them espouse the Congress family, they have a right to their opinions but I don’t have to subscribe to it. Neither is it fashionable for me to proclaim that Arnab Goswami is a maniac which he undoubtedly is, I don’t have to air such toxic views. There are better things in the world of sights and sounds to converse, like how much I enjoy a walk in the Theosophical Society lawns or how invigorating a boat ride on the Ganges was in Rishikesh or how much I loved Igatpuri. Besides I don’t have to have a subject to harass people with my views and opinions or keep a list of party jokes instead I try to practice present moment awareness.  Increasingly I see that many people - including me - don't know how to use their talking mouth. But each time I goof up, I am aware and come hard on myself.

            I think the greatest gift you can confer the other person in your company is to ACCEPT his/her thoughts without editing or culturing it. They can harbor any thought or feel any emotion, if it gets too heavy you have a right to run for cover but you don’t have a right imposing a contra-view and heckle them by starting a self-imposed education process for them. Radical compassion is listening without interruption; it's saintly patience not to supply a point of view or joggle your memory for a building pressure in the mind for a response. You can listen to them politely and carry on with your life without enforcing your petty views on them. Sure you have as much a right to hold any view on any macro subject but it's churlish to express them at every single opportunity. Just allowing others this little space to be themselves is an act of great kindness and compassion.

            We as Indians suffer from this complex of impressionism (often mistaking a loud talking mouth for intelligence) and conformism of a herd mentality society. But this lack of acknowledgement of others is no excuse for you to shout your way through, it’s boorishness to the extreme. There’s already a lot of noise in any gathering, keeping quiet should be your contribution and soon enough you’ll be respected for it. I have often been guilty of talking about my siblings or a failed romance, sure enough the world is not interested in them even for a gossip value. So any hunt for sympathies is not only a wasted effort but it reflects poorly on me for washing dirty linens in public. I must realize that a talking mouth is not the sole pathway to display my knowledge, wisdom, and how smart I am. It's silence that brings out these aspects to others and never a rattling mouth of a speedy train on rails. 

            My FB posts or blogs do generate a lot of compliments. Not a week goes by without someone praising me to the skies but I don’t feel anything. There is no high here for I know that mine is essentially a wastrel life. I am part of no one’s life and this loneliness hurts me psychologically. Only now I am realizing the power of acceptance, not the garish banter or humour. I try to bear in mind that it's in my best interests that the other person finds my company relaxing; it's a quiet demeanor that attracts flies to a honeycomb than the Rajdhani Superfast express octane blast of reason.  How nice it will serve me if anyone who interacts with me find it their best moment for the day.  Never open your mouth for a time filler, be it as a co-passenger in a flight or a train or when placed in a group of people. Speak as though you'll be charged on a word to word basis as in filling a telegram form. Kindness and Compassion are most bandied words; it starts with listening without interruption. This is a lesson I am yet to learn but increasingly sense its value. Now that I have put my mind on this, it should reflect in my writings and speech for more of restraint and a little of grace. 

Waiting, cooling heels

#136

Before I take a jab at narrating my side of events, Vivek Banerjee supplied a nice thought: Sathya, why take so much trouble on blog writing? It does not pay you a penny or is there any interested following? This touched a raw nerve, I simply said, “I have nothing better. It’s unlikely I would blog if there was an earning opportunity especially now that the stock markets needs stabilizing and I need more learning.”  Vivek is right. I have written too much and for too long and going nowhere for creativity.

            This is a desultory blog to capture these times, usually the onset of festival season catches me in the throat for a panic. I have not seen one in the last 3 decades, for Diwali I make it a point to visit any temple town just to be away from the revelry of fire-crackers. But beginning Ganesh Chaturthi onwards, I fervently wish I was buried hundred feet under. It does feel a singular punishment to be kept out for so long and no silver lining. Now after Igatpuri Vipassana, I sit for 50 min of meditations at the start of the day – I wake up, dim the fans and sit in silence watching either body sensations or breath. I feel a lot of settled nerves that I attribute to this new habit.

            This brings to mind Vipassana humour which I would like to have a record here. I recollect saying this to the teacher at Blore 2018 when he said, “Sathyanarayan G, you must try to sit in Adhisttan.” I said, “There is so much pain in my knees that it can supply power to the entire Blore city.” He did not laugh but I certainly did.  Now at Igatpuri when I went to confer with the teacher on Adhistttan, the teacher (a different one) said, “Observe your pain closely with the detachment of a scientist. See the source of pain, observe on which part of the body it is decreasing from source, see if there are any changes in each round. For instance, the pain could be intense pressure and five minutes later it could have turned into intense heat.”  After successfully holding them for an hour, I reported back to the teacher, “Sir, I did it thanks to your advice. I can’t afford to fail in this Maratha kingdom and bring a bad name to the Tamils. It’s Tamil pride that was at stake.” Again the teacher was not amused though certainly I was.

            In a Vipassana centre, any seed of a thought develops quickly as I played this humour on my head.  I tell Manisha, a typical Marathi, “Why did the Marathas lose the third battle of Panipat in 1761? Not only that, you people have not lost your pride till date,” for a giant chuckle. In reality I will not play this joke on her for she is overly sensitive but I can ruminate in my mind for a produce as I imagine Vivek saying,” Sathya, the Marathas lost the third battle of Panipat in 1761 because of poor leadership. They had a tambrahm in their army.” I tell him, “You mean I was heading their army in my previous birth.” I imagine Vivek chuckling, “You give yourself airs. Sathya, even as a foot soldier you have the ability to topple a ship.”  

            As you can see I am WAITING, COOLING MY HEELS by narrating jokes just to myself to keep myself busy. I wish for an earning source; it looks like those festivals that never come to me. One throw of the dice is in Mumbai where I am there on 19/8 for four days of FUTURES classes. I will ask for favours with my instructors, pray what else I can do?  I am quite innovative on this front, not in the manner of asking favours but I have an open mind for an occupation. I no longer insist on a white collar assignment. If not soft skills training, I am open to even a LASSI shop or food catering that I considered seriously last year. I need some people interactions in the day and sadly I have not been resourceful enough for a dose of it. I am not overly keen on writing a biography of an industrialist or a film actor but I will pitch for it in Mumbai with known people. Or try selling a script for a movie (I am better with my eyes closed and arms twisted on movie scripts, even my discarded thrash will make better viewing on the screens than the ones I catch on HOTSTAR). I need just a push, I am talented enough to make the most of it. But where will it come from in this junkyard of a country, I wonder. But at least in Mumbai I have some friendly people to voice my request, here in Chennai there's none. 

            Today my taciturn cook told me this tale in a tone of excitement: My electricity bill came to Rs. 1700 almost double the normal rates. It seems that after 500-unit consumption, we get into a new slab rate. So this time we were very mindful switching off lights and fans until yesterday my daughter found that the common water pump was connected to my meter. So for two months I was worrying stiff until this discovery. I am asking the owner for a refund and no more of such dirty underhand tactics.” I narrate this simple tale for this is my sole window to the outside world of normalcy.

            I have a talk to deliver on VIPASSANA and MINDFULNESS at FOSWL on 18/8 (it’s a local monthly gathering, it’s an abbreviation for FRIENDS of SAME WAVELENGTH). Normally no more than a dozen people attend, but for me this invitation looks like “one-year quota of talking for which I am extremely bashful and grateful”. My life is reduced to waiting for years, I have shown a lot of patience and perseverance. Maybe destiny will keep score and prove the axiom that every dog has its day. Waiting, destiny old man.